My daughter and I had been driving for days by the time I finally spied this tiny windmill. I flipped on the blinker and pulled to the side of the road. Emily's feet were propped up on the dashboard, her mp3 plugged into her ears, a cosmetic mirror in her hands. "Sure... why not... another windmill. Go ahead, mom. I'll wait here."
She had been waiting for me quite a lot over the past couple of days, and honestly I couldn't believe how patient she'd been! "You're the weirdest mom there is ... I think we've bonded on this trip."
Happy thoughts such as those bombarded me as I slid out of the truck and snapped away. She never minded when I stood for moments on end, soaking in the landscape, staring off into a distance I wished I could take home with me.
I knew that after we left this place, we would cross the Illinois boarder, visit my nephew in Deerfield and thunder toward western Chicagoland.
Don't you want to move here, Emsi? A roll of the eyes. "To windmills... really?"
I know the longing all too well. Whether one state away or one-hundred, there's no place like home... and Dorothy was talking about the midwest!
I hope it never changes.
6 comments:
The charm is all over, I still am amazed at the wonderful finds I come across and share on my blog. One thing you can't really portray with that picture is the people, the ethic of life many of them have shared and carried for multiple generations. You can walk up to many and tell them your story and they share theirs.I often share the story of going to a large metropolitian area in the sunbelt for an interview. I was in the store and picked up a orange and commented to the lady near me, "I thought these would be cheaper here." She looked at me and picked up her purse and walked out of the store. I didn't know how long I would last in this environment, but the money was good.Now I am back where I feel at home.
Years ago when I had first moved to Europe, a similar experience happened to me, Steve, only the lady glared at me rather than leaving the store. I had only been trying to make conversation. Since then, I have made friends with much of this town, but the icy glare of that woman has never left me. Part of me always has to fight the urge to hide within myself out of fear rather than open my heart to people the way I am naturally inclined. But I have to think... How must it be to live a life so outwardly closed off? And that always spurs me back into opening my arms to those around me, despite the risk.
After all, solitary confinement is a hard place to be. Thanks for such a thoughtful comment!
Allison, I LOVE it! Beautifully framed memory of a simpler time and place! The field in the background, the greens in the front, the trees... Thanks for the gift today from the Northern Midwest! :)
And I hope your daughter will cherish the memories of her bonding time w/ mom!
In time your daughter will come to appreciate this trip...if she doesn't already. I love seeing windmills in the yards I pass, some are broken and some still turn with the wind.
Your picture is gorgeous! I saw your comment about finding out about my red brick house. It is very interesting that there are no similar houses where you live. There are many brick houses in our area, so mine is very common. I love how each place has its own style of homes. I love my home, but I dream of wood sided or shaker style cottages! We live in the woods, so I don't do a lot of decoration for Christmas, but I'll try to post a picture just for you. If you ever find yourself on a southern tour...you'll have to stop by. Carla
Wonderful windmill:)
And I think it's amazing you and your daughter had this together....who knows what will come of it. The memories in your Memory Bank are yours and hers for always.
There IS no place like home.
Have a wonderful weekend:)
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